How many does it take before you find your Prince?

BDSM: Into the dungeon I prance – Part 2

And how are we all this fine Thursday afternoon? Or evening? Or morning? Well whenever and wherever you’re reading this I hope you’re comfortable, cosy and ready for another trip down dungeon drive, as we go back to my most recent of erotic experiences!

Ok, so I left you all in room two, keenly pondering what could possibly be in the mysterious and wildly popular room three. Well, it’s finally time to open door number three Lovers!

Wow. That’s a man in a cage.

No joke Lovers, I walked into the room and smack bang in the middle of the space was a man shaped cage with aforementioned man standing inside it. The cage was suspended from the ceiling and hung about thirty centimetres off the ground. As I looked around I caught the end of a conversation some patrons were having with one of the mistresses.

“So, you can get them imported?” one of the men was asking.

“Yes definitely, just don’t order them in bulk or you’ll get charged a fee at customs.”

I smiled inwardly, just imagining rocking up to the shipping yard with a van, inconspicuously trying to load up a dozen man shaped cages.

“It’s ok,” another patron chimed in “I’ve got a mate who custom makes them, I’ll give you his number.”

Huh, quite the helpful community!

Cage conversations aside, I could see why this was the go-to room of choice. On one side of the room sat a padded table with a metal frame welded to it, complete with all number of hooks and straps. I asked about the table, curious to see how it was that much different to the bed in room two. The mistress happily regaled me of all the multiple tasks one could perform on this particular instrument. Most interestingly was the fact that the sub could be pallet wrapped to the bed for complete immobilisation. The mistress went on to explain that this tactic was most useful when electrocuting clients or when needles were being used.

“It’s great for anything super painful really.” She chirped cheerfully.

Happy days.

After a quick demo on the many ways a leg or arm could be secured here, there and all the way over there, my attention shifted to something sitting unobtrusively in the corner. My eyes lit up and I just had to ask about it. I’ve always been fascinated with water sports, not necessarily for myself, but learning about them and how people go about it is nothing short of mesmerising! Therefore when I saw the ‘toilet chair’ there was no way I was leaving without some information. It was basically just a black toilet seat mounted onto a chair with a wire head rest directly underneath it.

“Do you use it much?” I asked eagerly

The mistress nodded and scratched her chin thoughtfully, attempting to remember the latest usage.
“I’ve used it twice in the past week actually,” she said after a moment “ but usually people prefer not to use it.”

I looked at her quizzically and she elaborated, “ Clients usually prefer me to pee directly onto their penis, chest or straight into their mouths. The chair makes that difficult and tends to go all over the face.”

I nodded, intrigued by the information but also wondering if it was a health and safety risk to swallow someone else’s pee.

(After a quick Google, turns out it is safe as urine is sterile. The only time it’s dangerous is if the person peeing on you has some sort of urine infection, which I seriously doubt any of the mistresses at this particularly clean establishment would have.)

On another note, don’t Google “is it safe to drink someone else’s pee?” at your local café. I’ve never seen my coffee frisbeed across the table so quickly and now the waitress won’t look me in the eye…

As I digested this information I longed to ask the question that was burning a hole in my brain. But I wimped out. I just couldn’t do it! The question of course was, “do you ever do brown showers?” I felt like I would insult them if I asked and they didn’t do them; that they’d look at me like some crazy perverted poodephile. So instead I just nodded and said “Cool.”

After I ripped my gaze and thoughts away from the ‘toilet seat’ I cast my eyes on the back wall. It was such a sight to behold. A Catherine Wheel! My eyes, which had already been bugging out of my head the whole night practically popped out of their sockets. The mistress noticed us all staring at it and happily showed us how fast the thing could go!

“Don’t worry, we never actually spin anyone that fast.” She assured us, as a few people gaped with disbelief watching the wheel fly round and round.

After demonstrating the speed, she then went on to describe how a person was strapped in and the different ways someone could be pleasured (or tortured.)

With one final glance I left room three to explore more of the delicious sights that awaited me. Suddenly I heard the deep rumbling of a man’s voice, rising above the din and calling me towards a small hallway near the back of the building. I shyly peeked my head around the corner and was greeted by a most voluptuous and scantily clad ass.

What a greeting!

The ass was of course attached to a body, the corseted body of one of the mistresses. She lay bent over a table as the owner of that velvety voice explained just what he was about to do to her.

Sir James.

My, my my.

He was like the epitome of manliness, with his big burly shoulders and thick luscious beard. Imagine if you will, the woodsmen of old, roaming around the forest, chopping down any wayward tree that came across his path, only to later slide off the suspenders, wipe the sweat from his brow and ravish the nearest maiden.

Did I mention he was burly?

Sir James happened to be wielding a thick leather flogger at the time, a detail that only heightened his supreme sexiness and masculinity. I should also mention here Lovers, that Sir James was not the most attractive man I’ve ever seen (he certainly wasn’t unattractive though I’ll definitely say that!) but his untouchable confidence and take-charge manner just made me want to whip my pants off and bend over right next to the mistress.

Such is the power of manly man. (Something for the male skinny leg jeans wearers of this world to take note of perhaps.)

Anyways, Sir James was doing some demos in what was called the training room. This was where would be masters and mistresses came to practice their craft and refine their skills. The wall was lined with all manner of utensils and implements and I could only imagine the fun they got up to after hours. I shyly stuck my hand up to ask a question and Sir James turned to look at me.
Squee! He noticed me!

I quickly babbled out a question regarding which was the best starting tool for spanking and how long it took to become proficient (i.e. how to not accidentally flick some unfortunate guys ball sack during a spank session.)

As it turns out the flogger is the best implement to begin with and Sir James recommended thirty minutes of practice a day.

Thirty minutes a day? Well I guess it’s one way to find thirty.

Before I could ponder too much on where to fit flogging into my daily schedule I was ripped from my reverie by the sharp crack of flogger on skin.

The mistress cried out in pleasure as Sir James went to town on her hiney. What a show! The boy certainly knew his stuff. I’m not sure if the mistresses groans were just for show but from the look of the women around me it certainly made a few panties wet.

I didn’t want to leave; the burly man and his corseted mistress were just too enthralling, but then I remembered there was still so much more to see and reluctantly peeled myself away.

And it’s a good thing I did Lovers, because the medical room was next!

Like water sports, medical fetishes have always been something of a mystery to me, especially after all the things I saw at Kinkfest. I was keen to learn more and find out just what type of things people liked to indulge in during their ‘check up.’

When I walked in I instantly had to bite back a giggle. It wasn’t the naked man lying on the medical gurney with his legs in stirrups that made me want to cackle, it was the poster on the wall behind him.

My housemate had the exact same one in his room!

I’ll never be able to look at it the same way again.

Once I had composed myself I turned to the mistress in charge of the surgery.

Wow she had nice boobs.

We’re not talking massive or anything, in fact they were quite small. They were just the most perfect set of love apples I have ever seen. Flawlessly perched atop her skin-tight corset, they hovered effortlessly on her chest, seamless pillows of awesomeness that just begged to be stared at.

You don’t have to be gay to appreciate a good pair of fun bags, that’s for sure.

I stammered out my questions, trying not to be so obvious in my appraisal. Luckily she had some very interesting facts for me. I asked what type of service men and women preferred whilst in this room. Men really enjoyed castration (not for real obviously, but you get the idea.)

“When we do this it’s like we own their balls and in that way we own them. They like to be dominated like that.” The boob goddess supplied helpfully. Us women on the other hand, we prefer fisting.

Yowza.

My lips clenched (and not the ones on my face) at the mere thought of it. My little sausage wallet could barely handle an overly large wang for too long, let alone the old five fingered salute from some BDSM expert.

That was certainly one advantage of being a guy, I thought, the ability to blast one out in almost any circumstances.

Lucky bastards.

I thanked the mistress and her chesticles and moved on once again.

There were a few more rooms to see, but you know what Lovers? I believe in keeping a little mystery in these things. I recommend everyone checking out a place like this when and wherever the opportunity presents itself, no matter what your sexual orientation, level of ‘expertise’ or what you like in the boudoir. At worst it’s a night out of the house and at best it could be the sexual eye opening experience you never knew you needed!

Until next time Lovers!

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: Hi, I’m wasted, but this condom in my pocket doesn’t have to be!

Loved this!
I forget how jaw dropping and fun everything was when I was new.
Now I’m more focused on properly plastic-ing an area to protect against blood flying during a barb wire flogging to gawk at the barb wire flogging.